


Andante, Andante (I am your music and I am your song)

by skeleton_twins



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: ABBA Songs, But especially singing to him, Fluff and Smut, He also adores Newt's singing, Hermann loves ABBA and you can't convince me otherwise, M/M, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_twins/pseuds/skeleton_twins
Summary: Hermann loves hearing Newt's sing and often fantasized about Newt serenading him. Years after the war ended, Newt finally does.Or the fic that only one (1) person asked for (but not really, just briefly mentioned it once) and I ran with it.





	Andante, Andante (I am your music and I am your song)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckgaybarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to the astounding, remarkable, marvelous buckgaybarnes for her birthday. Inspired by one of our twitter conversations.
> 
> Also, huge shoutout to the ever so lovely singagainsoon for kindly offering to beta this fic. Thank you, Chuck!!!! <3

Hermann’s used to it, Newton’s singing. It’s a common occurrence. Frequent hummings and rhythmic drumming of fingers against the edges of metal tables and tapping of boots against the concrete floors during long days working in the lab that stretch into long hours of restless and tiresome evenings.   
  
Those days Hermann would pretend that he hated hearing it, that he loathed it, that Newton’s voice was unbearable. Intolerable. Another reason for him to reach into his desk drawer and fill out yet another complaint form to deliver to whoever read them (something Hermann honestly should have thought to check into since the complaints were always left unanswered.)  
  
Still, those days it was much easier for Hermann to feign hatred, to don a mask in order to avoid the truth. Much more preferable than face the reality of the situation: Hermann Gottlieb was desperately, very much in love with Newton Geiszler.   
  
His brain was split right down the middle, separated into the right and left hemispheres equally. One side was filled with numbers, of equations, of solutions to this never-ending battle with the Kaiju. The other half flooded with words from letters written a long time before, daydreams starring a familiar biologist. Fantasies of love confessions spilling from Newton’s lips, of being under Newton’s heady gaze as if he was a specimen under Newton’s microscope for examination.   
Between nightmares of losing the war and reveries featuring Newton Geiszler, Hermann didn’t get much sleep at night   
  
The truth of the matter was, Hermann adored Newton singing as much as he adored the man. He had fallen in love with Newton’s voice ever since he spent countless hours searching on YouTube for Newt’s old band one late evening after reading Newton’s brief mention of his previous hobby in one of their letters. (It was a reference scattered throughout many of their letters, more and more little personal details slipping into what otherwise was considered research heavy discussions.) If Hermann had spent the whole evening clicking the repeat button, listening to Newton sing on a loop for hours until he fell asleep then that’s something he kept to himself.   
  
At least that was his intention until he hooked his brains into a blender with a fetal kaiju corpse and Newton Geiszler. It’s challenging to conceal anything in the drift. No stone is left unturned, every secret once hidden in deep recesses of his mind is tugged, yanked forward into the spotlight before everything is lost, drowned in shades of blue.   
  
Newton knows everything now, caught glimpses of Hermann’s whole life flashing forward and backward into the past, his youth, the lonely nights, the intrigue and anticipation he felt when he received Newton’s first letter, every single thought, dream, fantasy he had had about Newton.  
  
He especially knows how his singing affects Hermann now, fully aware of Hermann’s desperate hunt to find Newt’s single album online, how much Hermann enjoyed hearing his soft voice echoing throughout the laboratory, fingers striking piano keys. The choice of song varied. More often than not it was one of Newton’s own. Either from his old band (which Hermann pretended not to know the lyrics) or something, Newton made up on the spot, usually poking fun at Hermann. Other times it was songs Hermann knew, songs that he mentioned in his letters to Newt, that hearing them played in the open made him tense, his shoulders stiffening at the memory of composing that particular letter. It was a list. A confession of songs and bands Hermann thoroughly enjoyed at Newt’s repeated insistence of absolutely needing to know- “life or death”, he had written- for purposes that Hermann later learned was for a mixtape Newton sent along with the next letter. (Hermann still has it. Newton knows about that too.)   
  
Newt still teases, even years later, about Hermann’s infatuation for Newt’s singing (Hermann argued against the phrasing, but Newt had only waggled his finger at him, “Don’t pretend you weren’t my band’s biggest fan, Hermann. I know _all_ about those late nights-”  
  
“Your only fan.” Hermann quickly cut him off.  
  
Newt winced then shrugged, “Ouch. I mean you’re not wrong. My band _was_ shitty.”   
  
Hermann wholeheartedly disagreed with Newton on that though, even now still holds high regard for Newt’s old music.)  
  
Newt still sings, just as loud, just as beautiful as before. Only this time his voice spills into the corners of their new home they had settled down in (Newt argues over that particular word, claims he can’t envision a future of them settling down, only together of course.) They’re still working, only no longer in stuffy, cramped quarters or sharing a single lab. After the war, after drifting, they went home and it had been home for both of them in a way. Hermann has memories growing up in Boston, memories that weren’t his of course, but stepping foot onto the MIT campus had felt familiar. The university had offered both of them cushy jobs, tenure, and they had accepted it without a second thought.

Newton had left earlier today, right after their usual lunch together in Hermann’s office. Newton had peeked at his phone, tilted the slightly cracked screen towards him, eyebrows rising, climbing up his forehead, and a quiet exclamation of  “Oh!” slipping past his lips.

Hermann spares a brief glance away from the food resting on his desk, the takeout Newton had brought thirty minutes earlier, and towards Newton who had started to shovel the remaining noodles into his mouth. Yes...This was the man Hermann married.

“Newton-” Hermann starts, the corner of his mouths quirking upwards in a small smile.

Newton looks up, lips pursed and cheeks bulging from the food and the sight of him almost makes Hermann chuckle. While he tries to decide whether Newton looked like a squirrel or a hamster, Newton swallows audibly, throat muscles working. He holds up his phone in his hand, waving it in the air and for a split second Hermann worries about it slipping through his fingers and clattering onto the floor, further cracking the screen.

“Mmm, my order finally got shipped. It’s back at the house, I’m gonna swing by and pick it up.”

“Wait- you’re leaving?” Hermann frowns.

Newton pauses only momentarily, in the process of dumping the take-out containers into the trash before he’s shrugging on his jacket, nodding, “I’m done for the day anyway.”

Which was always true on Fridays, Newton’s day wraps up but he typically stays longer despite the fact, hanging out in Hermann’s office or his classroom. Newton had been vague about buying something online a couple weeks ago, said it was something he needed for one of his experiments. Hermann supposes he can’t be too surprised at Newton’s eagerness. Once he gets fixated on his experiment the rest of the world falls into the background until he’s done.

“I’ll see you at home.” Newton leans forward, kissing Hermann’s forehead with a loud smooch. “Don’t overwork yourself too much, Professor.”

It’s silly, Hermann thinks, but the day seems to drag after Newton leaves. He only had a couple more hours left of the day before Hermann would be able to head home, but in the short time that Newton left, Hermann was already missing his presence.

By the time he does get home, his mood perks up considerably. He breathes easy, stepping over the threshold into their warm abode.

“Newton?” Hermann calls out, suspicious of the quiet he’s greeted with. Living with Newton (something he’s already accustomed to after sharing a lab for years) always meant there was some kind of noise bouncing off the walls, laughter, music, sounds of tools hammering away as Newton work, but it’s silent when he arrives.

“In here!” Newton’s voice is muffled, coming from the direction of their bedroom. Hermann follows, gripping his cane tight in one hand, almost bracing himself for what he might find. He had reprimand Newton previously, on several occasions in fact, about working on his experiments in their bedroom, about the mess it would surely leave.

Newton greets him at their bedroom door with a kiss as soon as Hermann enters, stands on his tiptoes to reach his arms around Hermann’s neck, tugging him closer. Hermann doesn’t even realize Newton’s wearing his old parka until they both pull away, struggling to catch their breath.

“Ah, what’s this?” Hermann’s gaze follows the path of the zipper.

Newt has zipped it to the very top, the fur-lined hood laying atop his shoulders. The jacket is ridiculously too big for Newt (it was even too large for Hermann) but it drowns his short husband. The sleeves are much too long for Newt’s arms, covering the view of his hands except for the tip of fingers. He continues, eyes trailing downward until he’s met with the sight of familiar tattoos wrapped around Newton’s thighs peeking out from under the jacket. Hermann’s mouth suddenly feels dry, throat parched and in desperate need of water.

He clears his throat, “Newton, what are you-why are you dressed like that?”

“I wanted to dress up for you.”

“By wearing my old parka?”

“Yes,” Newton answers deadpan. “I wanted to look sexy for you by wearing your jacket.”

Hermann rolls his eyes at the sarcasm but Newton just sends him an amused look before clarifying, “It’s a surprise for you...Underneath.”

Newton swipes his tongue across his lips which captures Hermann’s entire attention “Surprise?”

“Mhmm.” Newton nods, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Wanna see?”

Hermann swallows thickly in lieu of a response. There’s a slight tremble to his hands as he grabs the zipper between two fingers, tugging on it until more and more of Newt’s skin is revealed, inch by inch. He pushes the parka off Newton’s shoulders, and his knees almost buckles once he sees what Newt’s wearing underneath.

“Ta-da...” Newt announces, a bit shyly, with a flourish of his hands. “So...Whaddya think?”

“ _Oh, Newton_ ,” Hermann whispers, almost reverentially. “ _Look at you_.”

The seafoam green negligee is sheer, revealing tattooed flesh underneath, a swirl of colors on skin. It ties in the middle, the thin material clasp together in a neat little bow, enclosing around his waist. Below, where smooth skin spills over the waistband, are matching lacy panties that cling to him.

He would fall to his knees if he could before Newton, lavish him with open-mouthed kisses along his leg and thighs, kiss his pretty cock through the lace until he feels it stiffening below his lips.

“You look stunning, darling.”

Newton blushes at the praise. The specs of green in Newton’s eyes shine, much more noticeable than usual. “Aren’t you going to touch me?”

Hermann makes a strangled noise, advancing quickly and cornering Newton, pinning him against the wall, sweeping him off his feet with his mouth, descending quickly and capturing Newton’s with a kiss. Hermann wants to touch every part of him, feeling the soft material between his fingertips.

Hermann caves, sliding his hand downwards, palming over Newton’s rapidly hardening erection.

Newton moans against his hips, “Oh, _fuck_ , Hermann. Please keep doing that.”

Hermann does. At that point, he thinks he might’ve done anything Newton asked for, given him anything he wanted, begged for. He slips his finger under the waistband, fingertips just brushing the head of Newton’s cock. Newton’s mouth falls open and Hermann doesn’t waste the opportunity to lick his way inside, sliding his tongue along Newton’s.

“Wait-Wait a second.” Newton lightly pushes Hermann’s shoulders back, “I had a plan.”

“A plan?” Hermann repeats, blinking fast, a bit dazed.

“Yes. A plan. A plan that you’re distracting me from.” Newton mumbles, eyelids fluttering shut when Hermann leans forward again, brushes their lips together again, teasingly, barely a kiss at all but Newton sighs into his mouth, pulling away once more. He frowns, “You’re too good at that.”

Hermann laughs lightly, steps backward as Newt scrambles over to Hermann’s discarded and momentarily forgotten parka, a tossed heap onto the floor. Newt bends at the waist and Hermann’s lungs deplete, collapse as he struggles for air, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the lacy panties hugging the curve of Newt’s ass. Newt straightens after digging into the pockets before finding whatever he was after.

He swings back around with his phone in hand. “Remember how you used to dream about me serenading to you?”

“I-” Heat rushes up Hermann’s neck, his gaze moving pass Newt, unable to fully meet his eyes, fixing his stare on the wall behind him. “Yes.”

Newton chuckles at his reaction, “Don’t be embarrassed, dude. I thought it was sweet.”

“Newton, did you have a point with this?”

“Right.” Newton claps his hands together. He points at the bed, “Take a seat. I’m about to fulfill all your fantasies.”

Hermann snorts at that, but he plays along, stopping only to set his cane against the nightstand before perching himself on the edge of the bed, hands folded across his lap.

Newton fumbles with his phone, tapping the screen once before tossing it aside, Hermann winces but it lands softly onto Hermann’s parka.

He recognizes the song within the first couple notes, as the melody spills into the otherwise quiet room. It was something he had mentioned long ago in their letters, his fondness for the Swedish group. A part of himself he had shared easily, something that Hermann wasn’t used to at that time, making himself vulnerable for the only person on the Earth that seemed to understand him like no one else.

 _“Take it easy with me, please.”_ Newt starts to sing, his voice low, a rasp clinging to each syllable, a distinct roughness to his voice that tinges the words he sings, it never fails to leave Hermann shivering.

He continues, and his hands fall onto his own body, pushing open the negligee wide. His green eyes glisten as he slowly drags his hand along his chest. _“Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze.”_

 _“Take your time,”_ Newt steps forward, bare feet almost stumbling on the carpet which makes Hermann smile, until he’s standing in the space between Hermann’s legs, circling his fingers around Hermann’s wrist and guiding it to his body. Hermann catches the hint. _“Make it slow.”_

Hermann follows the lyrics as instructions, moving his hands slowly, slipping them under the negligee, sweeping over Newton’s hips and upwards, cupping his waist. Newton breath hitches, his back slightly arching as he pushes further into Hermann’s touch.

_“Ah-Andante...Andante. Just let the feeling grow.”_

Newt drapes himself over Hermann’s lap, still singing, slings his arms around Hermann’s neck as he straddles him, thighs bracketing his hips. Hermann reaches to steady him, hands cupping Newton’s hips, thumbing over the lace his fingertips find.

Newton rolls his hips and is surprised to find Hermann already hard. “Wow, you’re really into this, huh?”

Hermann gives a quick swat on his ass, “Quiet.”

“Do you want me to sing or be quiet,” He asks cheekily, “I can’t do both, dude.”

“Keep singing. Please.”

 _“I'm your music.”_ Newt’s voice drops to a whisper, mumbling the words against Hermann’s lips, giving him a quick peck. _“I'm your song.”_

Hermann swallows lyrics, quiet laughter as he returns the kiss.

Newton pulls away slightly, _“Make me sing, make me sound.”_ He gasps when Hermann’s hands start traveling from his hips, upwards until his fingers are splayed against Newt’s chest. His nimble fingers reach the tiny bow keeping his negligee closed. He pulls at the ribbons lightly, the bow collapsing at his touch.

_“Andante, Andante.”_

He removes the negligee, slips it from Newton’s shoulders until it falls completely onto the floor and out of view. Newton’s voice trembles as Hermann’s hands run down his spine slowly.

 _“Tread lightly on my g-ground.”_ Hermann’s fingers wiggle under panties, cupping Newton’s ass and kneading with his hands. “ _Andante...Oh...Andante_.”

Newton forgets the rest of the words, pushing his ass back into Hermann’s hands. Newton moans when Hermann slides his finger along, running down over his rim, surprised to discover a plug already resting inside.

“Newton.” Hermann’s barely able to choke out. “When did you-?”

“I ordered it weeks ago...It finally-ah- arrived today.”

“Is that the reason why you left earlier today?” Hermann asks, hearing Newt whimper as he starts to tug on the plug, slowly pushing it in and out of Newton’s ass. The ring of muscle gives easily.  Hermann can imagine it effortlessly. Newton rushing back home, stripping and shedding clothes as soon as he reached their bedroom, wasting no time lubing his fingers up and sliding them inside himself, stretching himself for the plug.

Newt nods, hanging his head as Hermann increases his pace, the slick sounds of lube squelching as Herman fucks him with the butt plug, almost pulling it entirely out before shoving it back in. Newton cries out, pushing back against the plug and hips bucking forward to grind his cock against Hermann’s.

Hermann glances down, sees Newton’s cock flushed, straining against the fabric of the panties as he rolls his hips. A little damp patch of precome soaks the panties, and it’s almost enough to drive Hermann to orgasm. He twists the plug as he shoves it back in, and Newton’s fingers tighten, clutching around the material of Hermann’s sweater.

“Hermann- I- I can’t...I’m not-I’m not gonna last if you keep-”

Hermann keeps driving the plug in and out, pushing it back in over and over until Newton’s hips stutter in rhythm. Newt moans, hips bucking weakly as Hermann fucks him with the plug through his orgasm. He collapses against Hermann, their foreheads resting together. Hermann kisses him soft and slow as he removes the plug for the final time, tossing it beside them on the mattress.

Newton’s panting completely yields to Hermann when he flips their positions, rolling them over until Newton’s the one lying beneath him. He stares, admiring the soaked, ruined panties. Hermann lets his fingertips run over Newton’s softening cock, feeling it twitch under his touch.

He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, pulling it from his trousers’s loops, unzipping, and pulling his cock out. Newton’s eyes open at the sound of the mattress squeaking as Hermann moves, situating himself above Newton. Newton’s fingers do the rest, curling around Hermann’s cock, jerking him in erratic strokes that has Hermann spilling over in no time. He groans as he comes over Newton’s panties, staining the lingerie furthermore. Newton tugs on him until his cock gives one last spasm and a spurt of semen hits his lower abdomen in ropes.

Newton sleepily grins, leaning forward to wrap a hand around Hermann’s neck, kissing him briefly, “I should sing to you more often.”

The corners of Hermann’s mouth quirks up,  “Please do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Maria!!!


End file.
